Rest

At noon, Vitus Palaiologos walked out of Saint George Palace and sat on the stone steps outside, staring blankly. He only possessed a smattering of Italian and could not understand the specific conversations, so there was no point in staying any longer.

Suddenly, the sound of desperate pleas and wailing erupted from the docks, attracting a flock of ravens. Vitus went over to investigate and saw local residents dealing with the marauding soldiers who had been looting.

Some soldiers were tied to pillars, enduring lashes from others. After a few strikes, their backs were torn open, and blood flowed uncontrollably.

On the other side, those whose crimes were deemed severe were led to the gallows and hanged in rows. Once executed, the bodies were tossed into a sailboat; once full, it was transported out of the bay to a secluded stretch of sea to be dumped as fish feed.

After a long while, Piero stretched and walked toward Vitus. "Phew, my subordinates are finished being dealt with. It's someone else's turn now."

Noticing the other man's confusion, this middle-aged man who looked just like an ordinary fisherman smiled and explained, "Mercenaries must also follow the rules. Because of their own greed, they abandoned their brothers who were in the middle of battle. They must be punished, otherwise, the discipline of the mercenary group will fall apart."

"Regardless of what others think, my rules are simple: as long as they return to the ranks before dawn and hand over their loot to the mercenary group, they can survive after a round of whipping. If they continue to hide, it means they have severed ties with the Rotten Herring Mercenary Group and are no longer my brothers. I'll let the Genoese deal with them."

Piero complained about his disappointing subordinates and then praised the Doge's Swiss Guard. "The guard only had a hundred men, yet they escorted the Doge out of the encirclement. After the vast majority of their companions fell in battle, the remaining dozen or so were still holding on. Tsk tsk, they certainly earned their high wages."

Witnessing the loyalty of the Swiss Guard, Vitus was deeply shaken. According to Piero's explanation, Switzerland was primarily mountainous, and agriculture could not support a large population. Young men were forced to seek a living abroad, forming mercenary squads based on their villages. When mercenaries from dozens of surrounding villages gathered, they formed a mercenary group. Swiss mercenaries fought in various countries, sending their wages back home to support their wives and children. Day after day, year after year, when their descendants grew up, they would embark on the same path.

In a sense, this was a hereditary family profession, which was why Swiss mercenaries valued their reputation above all else.

If a mercenary squad betrayed their employer or fled in the face of battle, their reputation would be completely ruined, and it would implicate their descendants and fellow villagers. Even if the employer did not pursue them, their own kin would not let them off easily.

Vitus muttered to himself, Loyalty is the most precious quality, and the Swiss mercenaries happen to possess it. If I have the chance, I should also hire a squad of Swiss to serve as my guard, or hire Rus to form a Varangian Guard. By comparison, the Eastern Roman Empire's Imperial Guard is truly unreliable...

He pondered for a long time until a seagull flapped its wings and flew over, snatching a sea fish from nearby. Vitus looked around, but Piero, who had been by his side, was nowhere to be seen.

The afternoon sun made him drowsy. He pulled over an empty wooden barrel and stared blankly at the clear, azure sea. Perhaps out of boredom, he asked the cook for a piece of white bread, tore it into small pieces, and fed the nearby seagulls and pigeons.

I don't know how much time passed before the sound of metal rubbing against metal rang out nearby.

Vitus turned his head and saw Master Conan polishing a captured, ornate sword. After a long while, the latter wiped the blade with a rag, performed a flourish, and sheathed it.

Vitus: "I heard you were the first to charge into the courtyard last night, escorting the Doge out through the back door. You killed ten enemies in the courtyard alone?"

Conan drew the one-handed mace at his waist and examined it carefully in the sunlight. "As the chief swordsman, my duty is to protect my employer—Doge Albizzi. I don't have time to count these boring numbers. My only wish is to satisfy him and get paid enough."

"After finishing this job, I don't intend to continue. I'll have one last duel with the 'Black Knight' Zawisza, then buy an estate in the countryside and retire..."

Vitus intended to recruit an outstanding swordsman as a bodyguard and asked Conan about potential candidates. Regrettably, these masters of the blade looked down on ordinary employers; they preferred to serve in courts, where they could enjoy generous treatment, meet dignitaries from various countries, and build their reputations.

In the end, Vitus abandoned this unrealistic idea.

At three in the afternoon, Vitus returned to Saint George Palace. After arguing for most of the day, the meeting was nearing its end. Vitus leaned over to the scribe to look at the parchment draft, which had been revised many times.

He skipped over the long and complex trade agreements and finally found the content relevant to him:

"...In order to thank Florence for their enthusiastic help and to compensate for the accidental death of the guests, Genoa is willing to pay a sum worth 300,000 Florins, agreed to be paid off within one month."

Half an hour passed, and both sides reached a consensus. The representatives of Genoa, their faces grim, signed their names one by one at the bottom.

From Genoa's perspective, they shouldn't have stirred up trouble in the first place. After this catastrophe, one-sixth of the city was destroyed, and they still had to pay a huge sum to thank Florence for their "aid." After all the running around, they ended up with nothing.

After signing the agreement, they were in no mood to attend the banquet and left under various pretexts. Only the high-ranking officials of Florence and a group of mercenary leaders waiting for their share of the money remained in the room.

Albizzi did not want to anger these mercenaries, and coupled with the debt of gratitude for saving his life last night, he promised to use most of the money as bonuses for the participating personnel. The premise was that they would abide by the rules and not loot Genoese citizens or violate the alliance between the two sides during the rest period.

As the temporary commander last night, Vitus received the largest share, personally earning 30,000 Florins—enough to buy a castle or 6 to 8 large merchant ships.

After the rewards were distributed, the ten mercenary leaders left satisfied. Before Vitus could leave, he was called over by Albizzi.

"Anthony Doukas, do you have time? I would like to tour this building with you."

Vitus agreed and followed the old man as they wandered through the empty Saint George Palace. Suddenly, he saw two gold coins in a remote corner, so he picked them up, blew the dust off the surface, and naturally tucked them into his pocket.

"Your Excellency, are you in a hurry for money?"

"Uh, a little. Wait, what did you call me?" Vitus feigned ignorance, but Albizzi coughed twice and pointedly revealed his identity.

"Vitus Palaiologos. When your brother John Palaiologos passed through Florence, I hosted him and heard him mention a pampered younger brother who had sprained his ankle and was recuperating at an estate in the north. You look very similar; not just me, but others have guessed it too."

"At first, my cousin—Giulio Di Maggio—recommended you as artillery commander. I thought he was deliberately flattering you, wanting to keep you as a son-in-law. I didn't expect you to perform so brilliantly; you are more qualified for this position than anyone I can recall. Haha, it's a pity I don't have a daughter, so it can only benefit my cousin."